Chapter Nineteen

"Sam."

I sit on the edge of the

bed, trying to coax him awake. Sam's midnight blues lazily blink

open to find me leaning over him, my hair hanging around my face

like a curtain. He is beautiful when he sleeps. His lashes—too long

for a guy, especially one with his rugged features—fan out over his

cheeks, accentuating his sculpted bone structure. He's almost

angelic, and I'd rather sit here on the bed and watch him sleep

than disturb him. For a moment I forget why I even have to wake

him.

He brings his hand up and

threads his fingers through the hair at my nape pulling me down for

a long, slow kiss.

"Mmm," he

moans.

God, he tastes good, even

just waking up.

I pull away laughing and

he grins up at me. I suspect that in this moment he may have

forgotten where we are, why we're here. My smile turns regretful

because I know he's about to remember.

"I let you sleep as long as

I could. We gotta get going," I say breathily, inexorably affected

by his kiss, and a glance at the sheet bunched at his waist tells

me I'm not alone.

I see the moment he

realizes what we have to do today. He jumps up, suddenly anxious,

and it's so unlike him that it gives me pause.

He turns and looks me

over, as if to check for signs that I'm okay.

"Sam?"

He sighs, almost sounding

relieved as he seems to assure himself that I am, in fact, holding

it together. His behavior makes me wonder if he had a nightmare,

and the thought makes my chest ache.

He leans down to plant a

gentle kiss to my temple, and makes his way into the bathroom

without a word.

At a quarter of eight Sam

and I both receive a text from my mother.

Court delayed until after

lunch. I'm at the Prosecutor's office. Everything is okay, just

meet me at the courthouse at 1PM

I swallow anxiously,

looking to Sam as if he might have the answers, but he looks just

as puzzled as I am and even more worried.

All I know is this can't

be good. I'm supposed to be testifying in a little over an hour and

now I don't know what's happening.

Sam picks up his phone,

looking nervous. "My phone needs to charge, Ror, can I borrow

yours?"

"I just wanna call Chip

first, he's supposed to meet us at court."

Sam nods slowly, almost

reluctantly. He's not himself, and his reaction to this new

development is feeding my anxiety, so I step out on the balcony to

make my call, just wanting to give him some time to compose

himself.

Chip doesn't answer so I

text him instead. I decide to check my Facebook account. I usually

only check it weekly—I was just telling Sam as much the other

day—and I checked it on the plane. But I need to distract

myself.

It's a mistake.

I have a new message, and

though I've received a few of them from future classmates, I never

expected to see this name in my inbox.

Or maybe I did. Maybe it

was my worst fear, and the entire reason I was reluctant to make an

account again in the first place.

I don't even know how he

knew I had Facebook.

Robin hasn't changed his

Profile Picture in the year since we've been out of contact, and

it's his same smiling face, the same photo that incited my argument

with Sam the night he attacked me here during spring

break.

I stare at my inbox for

what feels like an hour before I decide to open the message. Not

opening it isn't going to make it disappear, and since it says he

sent it last night around ten thirty, it's already been sitting

there for hours.

I hold my breath, letting

my thumb linger over the top slot of my inbox before I close my

eyes and click it.

Rory,

I can't stand knowing

you're right here, in a hotel a few miles away, but I can't see

you. I can't stand watching you in court and not being able to talk

to you. I can't stand hearing him talk about you being together. I

won't stand for it. You are mine and I will never let you

go.

Oh, God.

I gasp in a wheezing

breath when I realize I haven't breathed since I clicked the

message, but it feels like it won't reach my lungs. My pulse

accelerates, and my breath races it.

Oh, God!

How could I have thought I

was safe? What was I thinking?!

I'm instantly covered in

sweat, my tank top sticking to my back, and then all too quickly

black spots dot my vision, my head dizzy, the world spinning around

me until my legs are overcome with pins and needles. I feel the

rail of the balcony behind me and let it guide me to the

floor.

I can't get my bearings. A

steel band tightens around my rib cage, closing in on my lungs, and

I just can't enough air. I'm going to pass out. I know

it.

I try with everything I

have to gasp in another breath. The loud, dramatic wheeze sounds as

if it's coming from someone else, somewhere else. I try and try to

fucking breathe but I can't stop thinking that he's going to come

for me. I know it.

I will never let you

go.

He's said it before. But

now he's here, in the same city, and he could be anywhere. He could

be somewhere in the hotel, just lying in wait.

He's going to kill me.

He's going to kill Sam, I know it!

"Ror?" I can barely see

him with my vision compromised. "Oh, fuck, Ror!"

He's at my side, I know

because I can feel his hands brushing the sweat soaked hair from my

forehead, rubbing at my arm like it could be enough to comfort me

right now.

I whimper.

I can't form words, can't

warn him, when it's all I want to do. Terror overtakes

everything.

He's coming! You've got to

get away, Sam!

He needs to leave, to be

far away from me when he finally comes for me!

If only I could

communicate, if I could show him my phone, but I dropped it. Where

exactly, when exactly, I don't know. I don't know!

Then he's slipping

something in my mouth—a pill,

I realize—and holding a water bottle to my

lips.

I try to sip, try to

swallow, but I can't even intake air.

Baby, baby,

baby.

He's been speaking this

whole time, I realize, but I've barely heard him.

Swallow for me, please

baby.

He's begging.

Pleading.

I want to beg and plead

too. Get out of here!

I'm sorry, baby. Please,

baby! I'm sorry!

I can't even make out

which are my thoughts and which are his words.

I focus all of my energy,

all of my concentration, and I do it—I swallow the pill, bitter and

chalky having spent too much time soaking in the water sitting in

my mouth.

Encouragements.

That's it, baby girl. Thank you. Thank you, baby.

I'm so sorry, baby.

It feels as if it gets

stuck in my chest, further cutting off my windpipe, and somehow

also as if it's grown, like there's a golf ball there instead of a

little bar-shaped pill.

Just breathe for me now,

okay?

Loud breaths. Like he's

coaching me. Like a childbirth class I saw in a movie

once.

In and out, in and

out.

I listen to his long, deep

breaths. They are calming. I try to mimic them.

My breaths come in double

time to his.

But they come.

Finally.

I breathe.

I breathe, and breathe,

and breathe. Hours pass. Or minutes.

My vision is still

black.

No, my eyes are just

closed. I blink them open.

My vision is blurry, but I

can see.

I'm not sitting on the

ground. But Sam is. I've been pulled into his lap, my head cradled

against his chest, his arms holding me, stroking my hair, breathing

with me. Breathing for me.

"Sam." I breathe his name, a prayer

on my lips.

Slowly I feel it—the magic

of the pill. I sit there, letting him hold me, waiting, breathing.

My vision clears, and I see my phone in his hand. He saw the

message. Did he have time to read it? How much time has even

actually passed?

"Fuck, baby, you scared

the shit out of me," he whispers.

"I'm… okay." I'm not. I'm

not panicking anymore, thanks to Sam and my medication, but I'm in

danger. We both are.

"I'm sorry. So sorry," he

murmurs, like he's still recovering from my panic

attack.

But he has no reason to be

sorry. I force another deep breath before I ask. "Why?"

Sam seems to startle. Like

maybe he's coming back to the world with me. But he doesn't answer.

Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, and I breathe in his

breath like it's my lifeline.

"Everything is okay. Do

you hear me? Don't pay it any fucking attention, baby girl. He

can't touch you. He won't touch you."

He's so adamant, but the

passion behind his words doesn't make them true. He can't control

Robin. I'm not sure anyone can.

"He's not going to let me

go, Sam. He's going to hurt me. He's going to hurt

you." I whimper again at

the thought, like a pitiful frightened puppy.

"No, baby girl. I swear to

fucking God—you're safe. We're safe." He takes a deep breath and

wipes the tears, or sweat, or both, from my cheeks. He stares

intently into my eyes. "You saw the photos yesterday, yeah? Of what

happened the last time he tried to hurt us?"

I saw them, yes. And I

know Sam won that fight, that he's stronger. But Robin is crazy.

Who knows what he

might do?

"But—"

"I know you're upset, Ror,

and I'm sorry. But baby, I need you to trust me. I am going to keep

you safe. I promise you nothing will come of that message, okay?

We'll report it to the prosecutor, and they'll revoke his bail.

He's not allowed to contact you, remember? This whole hearing just

became moot. He just violated the restraining order

anyway."

My mouth drops open as I

process his words.

Is he right?

Robin's not supposed to

contact me. This is contact. This is a violation of the Injunction

for Protection. Even if the judge believes he didn't know I'd be in

Miami, that he didn't knowingly seek me out, this is undeniable.

I can't find words. I just

stare at Sam, gaping.

He nods at me as if

confirming what I'm finally starting to grasp.

"Sam." It's the only word I can

form.

He brushes my hair from my

face before his lips press hard against mine. He does it again, and

again, in chaste, closed-mouthed, hard kisses.

Finally he lifts me up and

carries me from the balcony.

"I can walk," I tell

him.

"I know," he replies, but

he doesn't put me down.

He tries calling my mom

because I know I can't bring myself to say the words that Robin

wrote, but he tells me it went straight to voicemail.

Well, we'll be at court in

a couple of hours either way.

Sam orders room service

and a in-room movie that I pay no attention. Sam keeps watching me,

like he's checking to make sure I'm not going to panic again, and

though I know I've earned his concern, what I don't understand is

the hint of guilt that colors his features.

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